


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by scandalpants



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 17:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13128924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalpants/pseuds/scandalpants
Summary: Based on VMHQ Holiday Fic Grab Bag Prompt #47:  Logan and Veronica are dorm/class acquaintances who end up getting stuck in a snowstorm while carpooling to a holiday party in Tahoe. I took a couple liberties changing the circumstances to an AU while they’re going to Hearst.  Hoping the prompter won’t mind...





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

_December 15, 2009_

_Grouch & Eligh, Lil’ Wayne, Big Boi, Ludacris. _Veronica glanced between the predictable CD collection, the road, and the rearview mirror as she drove.  For now she contented herself with the holiday radio station, as long as they still had reception.

Four hours and she was Bored. Beyond. Belief.  More than that, she was still pissed.

This road trip was _supposed_ to be _fun_ .  It was _supposed_ to be in her worn-in Saturn with the mistletoe hanging from the overhead light, not some top-of-the-line Range Rover where she was afraid to spill.  It was _supposed_ to be her stupid, flop-haired boyfriend riding in the passenger seat, not some strange guy passed out in the back.

 _Ex-boyfriend, Veronica._ EX- _boyfriend._

Backseat guy groaned. Veronica glanced back and saw he was only rolling over, not waking up, so she relaxed.

 _Next stop.  At the next stop I’ll call Mac and ask why she suggested I hitch a ride with—what_ IS _his name?_

She glanced at the CD collection again and grimaced.  Apparently alternative wasn’t even in the guy’s vocabulary.  

Her boyfriend was _supposed_ to handle the music for the trip.  

_EX-boyfriend.  And get over it, already._

She should.  She should get over it.  It wasn’t like things were great between them.   _He_ wasn’t great.  Not with his awkward smile and more awkward jokes.  Nor his complete inability to understand when a case took precedence over him.

No, what rankled was _he_ broke up with _her._ And then to find out it was because of that dyed-haired, hoody-wearing, emo girl with the fifty rings—

_Stop with the catty, Veronica.  She got the short end of the deal.  Right now Piz is probably playing her some acoustic Barry Manilow, and she has to laugh like he’s actually being IRONIC._

Spotting a gas symbol under the nearest exit sign, Veronica snapped out of her reverie, maneuvered the overpriced SUV across three lanes, and shot down the off ramp.

At the Chevron station ( _Mr. Land Rover can afford top shelf_ ), while tempted to slam on the brakes and throw her passenger to the floor, Veronica took a breath.  Alas, reason prevailed.  No way was she going to piss him off before he even paid for the gas.  

The guy didn’t wake up.  Not when she stopped the car, nor when she opened the door with the keys in the ignition so it would _bong, bong_.  She bet a shot from Mr. Sparky would—

_Gas. Get the money for gas._

“Hey, um,” Veronica searched her brain for his name. She’d been so caught up in her anger at Piz that she barely paid attention when Mac told it to her.  “Louie?”   _Nope, not it._ “Loren?”

Nothing.  With a sigh, Veronica got up on her knees and leaned over the seat.  She studied the prone figure.

Long—the boy was all bent knees and sprawl.  Well-formed arms, near as she could tell with them thrown behind his head.  His shirt had ridden up so she had a broad view of his stomach.

Not fat—not at all—but substantial. Had a nice color to him, like he got some sun.  A faint trail of dark hair led from his navel into the waistband of his jeans that were unbuttoned, but zipped. Her eyes wandered down further—

“If you want to join me back here, we should move the car first.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, careful to keep her embarrassment hidden as she found him smirking at her.  “Ewww, as if.  We need gas.” _Lyle?_

He sat up and yawned hugely, not bothering to cover it up. “Where are we?”

“Near Huron. Got a little behind with traffic through L.A. but we’re picking up speed.”

He nodded and climbed out of the car.  When he headed off toward the bathrooms instead of inside to pay, Veronica hopped out of the driver’s seat.  “Hey… you. Gas, remember?”

Whatever-his-name-was twirled ( _what guy_ twirls _, for crap’s sake?)_ around and tossed something at her, which she caught. Veronica glanced down and saw she was holding a money clip with bills an inch thick.

“Hey… you?” he asked, imitating her.

 _Cute,_ she grumbled silently.  “Yeah?”

“Get snacks, too. Whatever you want’s fine, but,” he waggled a finger at her, “I _will_ judge you on your choices.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“And it’s Logan, by the way.”

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did. _Veronica._ ”

He had a disarming, mumbly way of saying her name.  Or it was the teasing grin he gave her.  Either way Veronica found her opinion of him revised, if only slightly.

_What did Mac say about him?_

Veronica pretty much stopped listening after she heard free ride to Tahoe.  By her count so far the guy was 1-3.  One point for the bit of humor he showed, minus one each for his music, for passing out the minute they got in the truck, and for the smartass comment about joining him in the backseat.

Okay, maybe she could call that last one a draw.  She was checking him out, after all.  Thinking over his abs and that dark trail of hair that led into his jeans she had to concede that he did, in fact, check out.

_Cool your jets, Mars.  You’ve only been single twelve hours._

Twelve hours that, despite being irritated Piz beat her to the gong, held an underlying sweetness of relief.  No more emails with song links she _had_ to listen to.  No more pouty voicemails when he felt neglected.  No more guilt that she wanted to take her car and run over a guy for whom ‘nice’ was his most defining characteristic.

The problem, she surmised, was sex.  There’d been too little of it lately and this trip had built up, in her mind, as equivalent to putting a starving person in front of a buffet.  A weekend when, without time constraints, roommates, or intrusive fathers she and Piz broke out of their well-established, and unsatisfying, rut.

Now she was left with the appetite and no way to satiate it.  

Through the window she viewed her sleepy co-pilot return to the Land Rover, dig a fresh shirt and hair gel out of a bag, and head again toward the bathroom.

Veronica perused the snack aisles and pulled out her phone. _1 voicemail_ , her screen read. She texted Mac.   _What do you know about this guy, again?,_ and hit the passcode for her voicemail while she loaded up on snacks.

_Doritos.  Cool Ranch.  Original leaves that annoying yellow powder on everything and the other flavors are—_

“Veronica,” Piz’s voiced breathed into her phone.  “Hey. I’m sorry you saw me with Emily last night but it’s not what you think.  I mean yeah, it is what you think, we were on a date but it was _—,“_

She cut off his voicemail.  Just the sound of his voice brought out chagrin.  Two years. She’d wasted two years on that Brian Wilson wanna-be.  Veronica added Teriyaki Beef Jerky and six different types of candy to her haul, along with Skist, Coke, and water bottles for palate cleansers, then she paid and filled up.  

Though she kept the receipt.  What the client didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. After all, if her Saturn hadn’t ended up in the shop last night, it would have been _her_ buying the gas.  

Moral gray area but really, chances were Veronica would be subject to Hip-Hop Billboard’s Top Hits of 2009 for the next five hours so she’d _earn_ that money.

By the time she was done pumping the gas the guy, _(Logan, it’s Logan)_ , had climbed into the driver’s seat and was pawing through the snack bags.  He shook his head when she opened the passenger door and pulled herself inside.  “Almost perfect but no Corn Nuts.”

“Not in a car. They stink.”

“Fair enough.  Red vines?”

“I can go get you some Twizzlers,” she offered, thinking _one more point against._

“To quote you, Cher, _Ewww, as if._ Ah, here they are,” he said, holding up the licorice package.  He handed her the bags, minus chips and a water bottle, and started the car.  “Okay, you’ll pass.”

“Thanks,” Veronica sneered.  “Sugar, salt, dubious protein, and carbs.  I know my road trip food pyramid.  You, on the other hand, have some ‘splaining to do.”

“What?” Logan studied the road and eased into traffic before looking over at her.  

She held up the CD holder like a Price Is Right showcase.  

“Oh, hey, throw those in the back, will you? My iPod’s in the glove box.”

“Whose are these?”

“Friend’s, left for Cabo yesterday. I drove him to the airport.”  Logan checked his mirrors and craned his neck to get them merged onto I-5.  Once they were in the fast lane he relaxed; his knees lolled open and his wrist hung lackadaisically at the wheel while he plowed into the Doritos.

“You sure you’re okay to drive? You did just pass out a couple hours ago.”

“That was to sleep off the hangover.  Drunk was last night, after finals.”

Veronica was nervous when anyone else drove.  She catalogued Logan’s casual stance against the way his eyes competently darted between the road and his mirrors.  How he kept a decent distance between them and the car in front, easing back when another car got in between them.  

She relaxed and started to stow the CDs under the seat when she saw ‘Casablancas’ written in sharpie on the side.  “Your friend wouldn’t be Dick Casablancas, would it?”

He glanced over at her, surprised.  “You know him?”

“Unfortunately.” _Helped my dad send his mass-murdering brother to jail._ “How long have you been friends?”

He glanced over, like he heard something in her voice.  “Couple years.  We met in Cub scouts, back when Dick’s family lived in L.A..  Reconnected when we ran into each other at Hearst.”

_Minus one more point for bad taste in friends._

“L.A.?  Is that where you grew up?”

“Um,” he hedged.  “Mostly.  Went to a boarding-slash-reform school for most of high school but other than that, yeah.”

“Reform school?” She picked up a Pi Sig sweatshirt balled up on the floor and shook it out.  “The frat know about this?”

“Also Dick’s,” he said and grabbed it from her to throw it in the backseat.  He wiggled a fake cigar at her. “I wouldn’t belong to any club that would have me as a member.”

“Groucho? Really?”

“Clueless? Really?”

“Fair enough,” she parroted back at him and, despite herself, grinned.  “What got you put in reform school?”

“An,” he airquoted, “unwillingness to respect authority.”

“Vague.”

“Nosy,” he teased.

Her phone buzzed with Mac’s reply.   _I trust him._  Mac wasn’t one to hand out endorsements lightly, which mollified Veronica, but the text did nothing to satisfy her curiosity

Veronica reached in the glove box, grabbed the iPod, and powered it up.  A quick scroll showed much better choices than the CDs.   _Dean Martin, plus. Green Day—not original but at least fun.  Benjamin Taylor? Who that?  The Perishers, nice.  Sam Cooke, 46 Bliss, Eminem, Beastie Boys. Virgin Suicides soundtrack?_

“Like anything?”

“Most of it.”   She plugged the iPod into the audiojack and went for The Perishers, a nice, neutral choice.  Good for background and filling awkward silences, but with less chance to slip into a sing-a-long by accident. Which she was prone to do.  “How do you know Mac?”

“I needed tech help for a class freshman year,” he said.  “She had a flyer up at the student center.  We’ve helped each other out a few times since.”

“Helped how?”

He shrugged, evading.  “How do you know her?”

“We’re both Neptune High alumnus.  I’ll withhold details but let’s just say Mac and I bonded over a nefarious deed she engineered.”

“Nefarious? Mac?”

Veronica grinned.  “She’s not as sweet as she—nevermind, she is as sweet as she looks.  But she’s not as innocent.  There’s a bit of misanthrope in her.”

“That’s sad to hear,” he said.   “So, what’s in Tahoe, anyway?”

“The big Delta Upsilon party. Isn’t that why you’re going?”

“No,” he shook his head.  “Not my scene.”

“Mine either,” she sighed, tired at the mere prospect.

“So, why are you going?”

“Long story.”

“Long drive.”

“Why are you going to Tahoe?” she asked.

His pause told her he was editing his answer. “Family cabin to myself, skiing.  Your turn.”

Veronica looked out the window, weighing how much to tell him.  Something about his easy manner and Mac’s trust in him let her put down her defenses a little.  “Are you friends with any Deltas?”

“Not if I can help it.”

His answer turned up the corners of her mouth.  The Hearst Deltas' reputation was even worse than the Pi Sig's.  “Did Mac tell you I’m a private eye?”

“Seriously?” The surprise in his face was evident—as was wariness.  

“Yep.  Been licensed since I was nineteen, so, two years now?  Anyway, a girlfriend of one of the Delta’s has mono and can’t make the party.  She hired me to find out if her Prince Charming is applying Vegas rules to Tahoe.”

“Tawdry.”

“Hopefully not. It’d be nice to bring back good news for once.  You’d be surprised how little that happens.”

A shadow crossed over his face.  “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Ah, been cheated on?”

“Again, nosy.”

“Did you miss the part where I’m a P.I.?” She kicked off her shoes and dared to put her feet on the pristine dash.  “Your friends have plans for Mexico, you have plans for Tahoe. My guess is the trip was supposed to be a romantic getaway for two, and now there’s sudden availability in your car.  So this cheating was recent.”

Logan did not even glance at her feet. His jaw tightened and his knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel.  “You enjoying yourself?”  

“Logan,” she swallowed.  “It’s—shit.  I’m in a mood, okay.  My boyfriend and I broke up yesterday and I think I’m on a mission to alienate anyone with a Y chromosome.”

He was quiet long enough for Veronica to wonder if he was making plans to drop her at the next bus stop.  Finally he sighed and put his head back against the seat.  His lips twitched.  “Do they teach detectives to apologize? Because you suck at it.”

Veronica’s spine curved back into the seat.  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“I bet.”  Logan checked his mirrors and moved over to pass a slow truck in front of them.  “Sorry about the boyfriend.”

“Sorry about the cheater.”

“Wanna pull off at a motel and have revenge sex? We can post pictures on Facebook.  Tasteful, of course.  I know a thing or two about good lighting.”

“I—,” Veronica stared at him, mouth agape.  

He glanced over at her and snickered.  “I’m kidding.”

“I hope so.”

“I don’t know shit about lighting.”

Veronica felt the smile break through.   _This,_ she thought _, is the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, that thought was even stronger.  Logan was, as far she could tell, a great guy.  Kind, charming, and possessed of an eviscerating wit that appealed to her darker side. She was having fun for the first time in months _._ Talking, laughing, bantering, actually enjoying music instead of suffering a history lesson just because she had the audacity to play some.

“Wait a minute,” Logan scoffed.  “You sat through a _three hour_ show?  Of covers?”

“Three hours of _just_ Morrisey covers.  By all different bands, most of them godawful.  He didn’t come on until the last set.”

“How much did you have to drink to get through that?”

“Didn’t.  Put my hair down so it would hide my earbuds. Downloaded some old George Carlin routines so I could keep a smile on my face.”

“Nice.”  A companionable silence fell between them.  Logan broke it by asking, “So, uh, did he cheat on you with the new girl?  Was she the reason for the breakup?”

“Not sure and don’t care,” Veronica said, and meant it.  “He was a nice guy but we both hung in _way_ longer than we should’ve.”

“How long?”

“Two years.”  Logan’s low whistle made her smile.  “That’s nothing.  I was with my first boyfriend—my best friend Lilly’s brother—for over three years.  If nothing else I’ve got endurance.”

Logan’s eyebrows wagged as he threw an exaggerated leer her way.  “There’s better ways to use it.”

Heat spread through Veronica’s cheeks.  She looked away to hide it and snorted.  “God, you and Lilly would get along.”

“We should all go out, when we’re back from break.  You can introduce me.”

A mental image of Logan and Lilly, twined together on a dance floor, ran through Veronica’s mind and she dug her nails into her palms.  “No dice.  She’s in her senior year at Vassar then off to Europe.”

“Too bad.”

“Yep. Damned shame.”

“Hungry?” Logan asked, slowing down at the first stoplight they’d seen in miles.

“I could eat.”

“We’re fifteen miles from your hotel.  There’s this little roadside place I know coming up.  It’s a dive but they make killer burgers. Interested?”

“You had me at dive.”

They’d become so ensconced in the warm Rover, Veronica drew in a sharp breath when she opened the door and breathed in the freezing mountain air.  Small flakes fell from the sky, covering the packed snow from an earlier storm with a light powder. She slid her jacket on but left her boots in the truck since the diner’s door was a mere hundred feet away.  A decision she regretted when, ten steps in, her chucks slid on a patch of black ice.

A steadying arm slipped around her waist, grabbing her before she could fall.  

“You all right?” Logan asked, his breath warm against her ear.

“I—“ The press of his body against hers was igniting.  Veronica shook her head and let out a breathless laugh, hoping Logan couldn’t hear how her heart pounded.  “I’m fine.”

Logan released her slowly, making sure she was steady on her feet as he did.  He grasped her hand and tucked it the crook of his elbow, giving her a secure handhold as they made their way to the door, his heavy, black hiking boots digging into the slippery walk.

The mountain air filled her lungs, leaving behind the same metallic taste in her mouth she got drinking from a hose.  The smells of pine and pitch underlay the much stronger aroma of charred burgers over a fire.  Veronica’s stomach grumbled, making Logan laugh.

“You really are hungry.”

“Starving.”

“You just ate ten pounds of junk food.”

“Appetizers.”

“That’s a nice change.”  He opened the door, grabbing two menus on the way and leading her to a table.  “Living in L.A. can make you forget girls like to eat, too.”

“Poor you. A city of thin, beautiful women and you don’t even have to buy them dinner.  How does a guy manage?”  

The waitress came by before Logan could answer.  He put in his order and excused himself to the restroom. Veronica watched him walk away, admiring his athletic grace as he worked his way around the crowded restaurant.

Hoping for a signal, she dug her phone out of her purse and powered it up, turned off to save battery while they drove through the cell-unfriendly mountains.

She had three voicemails.

_“Honey, it’s dad.  Let me know when you get there, and how you’re doing.  I’m sorry about Piz. Love you.”_

_“Ronnie,”_ Lilly’s squealed, making Veronica wince, _“Oh my god!! I just got your message.  Did you mean it?  You finally broke up with Piz? Girl, get on a plane!!  I already bought you a ticket for Monday—no is NOT an option.  I’ll get you laid proper if I have to do it myself!!  And don’t tell me the Donut or that limp haircut ever did it for you.  Please Ronnie, please?”_ Puppy-whines ended the call, making Veronica laugh.

“ _Veronica.”_ Veronica recognized the breathless, girly voice of Tiffie VanThorton, the girlfriend who hired her for the Tahoe trip. _“Oh gosh, I hope you didn’t leave yet.  Andy just surprised me with, like, Chinese food and a giant teddy bear. How cute is that? Anyway, he’s totally staying with me this weekend so, like, you don’t even need to go!  Thanks anyway.”_

Veronica looked up from sending a text to her dad to see Logan studying her as he made his way back to their table.  “Everything okay?”

“No.”  She cued up her voicemail again, hitting the skip button twice to get to the third saved message and held the phone out to Logan.  “If only I got that before we left Huron I could have bussed back.”

“Not much of a way to spend the weekend,” Logan said, taking the phone.  

She busied herself setting up the table for her dinner while he listened to the message. Ketchup, salt, and napkins close at hand.  Knife and fork to her right.

He handed the phone back to her, his lips pressed together as if to keep back a smile. “Are you out a lot of money?”

“She’ll cover expenses and time enough for me to get back tomorrow.”

He nodded, running his fingers over the sugar packets on the table.  “So,” he said, drawing out the word, the smile still playing at his lips.  “Your boyfriend was Piz? That milquetoast disc jockey at our school? Is that for real?”

“I—“ Veronica sputtered, looking down at her phone in horror.  When replaying old messages this time, instead of new ones, she’d forgotten there was an earlier, fourth message still in her box.  Which meant Logan listened to Lilly’s message in addition to Tiffie’s.  “Oh my god, Lilly.  You _heard_ that?”

“Pretty sure the whole world heard that. I got the sense your friend’s shouting it from the rooftops.  She seems to have a low opinion of your boyfriends’ attention to detail?”

“Because Lilly assumes if you aren’t telling every private detail of your life that there’s nothing to tell.”

Logan gave a wry smile. “That’s Dick’s philosophy, too.”

“Is it yours?”

“No,” his voice got low, firm, eyes fixed on hers.  “I think private should stay private.”

“So do I.”

“Says the woman with a snoop badge.”

“It’s a job.  Besides,” she grinned, “if I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.”

Appreciation and humor softened Logan’s features.  His smile spread wider as his eyes scanned her face, from her forehead to her lips.  Veronica’s breath caught.  

The waitress brought their drinks and Veronica distracted herself, peeling the paper off the straw and taking a long sip.  Logan did the same.

“So, how did you become a P.I.?” he asked.

“Took a test, paid a fee.”

“Okay, _why_?  How did that particular life choice come about?”

Veronica shrugged.  “My dad’s sheriff of Neptune.  Mac tell you that?”  

“Huh uh.”

“Watching him work, I got the bug. Which was his worst nightmare.  Cue teenage rebellion, a few easy money jobs,” she shrugged.  “I like it, I’m good at it.”

“So, college student by day, peeping in windows with a zoom lens at night?”

Veronica grimaced, swirling the ice in her glass with the straw.  “As few of those as possible.  Mostly I take on lost people, stolen property, insurance fraud—the like.  Solved a dog-napping ring once, helped my dad nail a child predator who also was our mayor.”

“Nice.”

“That’s Neptune.”

“I’ve noticed.”  Logan wrapped his palms around his soda glass.  “And when when business is slow?  You do candid celebrity photos in your spare time to keep the lights on?”

“Ugh, no.Paps are the lowest of the Van Lowe’s.  I get hard up there’s always a bail jumper or two to track down.”  

Logan’s shoulders relaxed, as if something in what she said reassured him—which was the opposite of every other man in her life.  “You taking on a bail jumper.  I’d pay to see that.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate the scrappy.” _Or the ex-biker who’s happy to ante up muscle for a cut of the bounty,_ Veronica thought but kept to herself.  She rather liked the way he was looking at her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their food came.  Conversation turned to idle chatter, comparative reviews of movies they’d seen and concerts they’d attended, professors and classes they’d both taken, though not at the same time.  All thoughts of Piz faded.  An hour passed, two, Veronica feeling more and more she was falling under a spell.

 _Get a grip, Veronica.  He’s not that great looking, not that funny.  It’s rebound goggles and you know it._  

It wasn’t.  Their thoughts and opinions meshed on too many points, and he met her jib for jab in the humor department.  Though she talked about her dad, circumvented questions let to an understanding not to discuss her mom nor either of his parents.  Never had she felt this connected, much less with a guy.  

When Veronica came back from her own turn in the restroom it was natural to sit catty corner to him, instead of across.  The rest of the room faded to background noise as they both leaned in, elbows crossed and touching on the table.

Her leg bumped his under the table and, rather than move away, Logan pressed his knee into hers. Veronica was sure he said words after that—she could see his lips move and the tip of his tongue as he talked—but later she couldn’t recall what they were.  Only that she laughed and somehow managed a response that made him smile that big, soft, admiring grin she’d come to feel was only for her.

“Excuse me, folks?” the waitress interrupted.  “We’re closing up early.  Can we get you anything else, for the road maybe?”

Around them the diner had emptied.  Veronica and Logan’s eyes met, both laughing when they realized they hadn’t noticed.  “You ready?” he asked, digging cash out of his pocket.

“Oh, yeah, let me…,” Veronica answered, reaching for her purse.

Logan dropped a fifty on the table for a tab less than twenty, said, “I got it,” and stood, grabbing her jacket and holding it out for her to slip on.

She should argue, insist on paying her half and turn the receipt into her client, but for once Veronica let her principles slide.  She didn’t want the date atmosphere to fade away with a reminder of how and why she was here, in this place, with Logan.

And yet, he was ten minutes from dropping her at her hotel and disappearing from her life.  Disappointment dropped like a lead weight to her stomach.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give for an ounce of Lilly’s courage and abandon.  Anything that would allow her to make a move on Logan, one that would end with him between her sheets tonight.

 _“My, my, my,”_ Lilly teased in her head.   _“Aren’t we the wild child, Veronica Mars.  I always knew you had it in you!”_

Except, she didn’t.  For all her bravado when investigating a case, she’d never considered inviting a virtual stranger into her bed.  Until now.

Logan adjusted the collar of his own jacket he’d pulled on during her ruminating.  “Do you need to stop for anything before I drop you at the hotel?”

 _Condoms? Courage?_ “No, thanks. I’m set.”

He nodded and waved for her to step before him.  His hand reached out and pushed open the door, an old fashioned, gentlemanly move that had her swallowing down ever more regret.

In front of them the world had turned white.  A SoCal girl her whole life, it took a moment for Veronica’s eyes to adjust and understand what she was looking at.  

Snow.  Piles and piles of it.  The light powder from earlier was buried, replaced by fat flakes.  Large drifts had collected while they’d been in the diner.  Logan’s Rover was a hulking mass covered in three feet of the stuff, at least, and more was falling.  A stealth storm sent to blanket the world.  

Around them was an ethereal quiet.  No cars passed on the road and the sky shone a dusky orange, despite the late hour.

“The news said six inches,” Veronica spluttered.  She’d checked the forecast both last night and this morning.

“News lies.  Which way you headed?” their waitress asked, shutting and locking the door behind them.  The rest of the staff plowed their way toward the other white masses in the parking lot.

“East,” Logan answered, “about fifteen miles.”

“Not tonight.” The waitress shook her head and walked past them, unconcerned.  “Radio said there’s an accident about five miles up the road, plus the snow. Road’s closed from there on, for the night.”

“Thanks,” Logan called at her back, blowing into his bare hands.  He looked down at Veronica and shook his head.  “Sucks to be you.”

“How do you mean?”

“You heard what she said, road’s closed.  Guess you’re hoofing it.”

“What about you?”

“Oh me?” he said, backing up.  “My cabin’s just up the next road.  The Rovers got four-wheel drive. I’ll be fine.”

“Logan—“

“Now me, I might offer you a piggy-back ride to the car.  Even let you crash at the cabin.  Only one problem.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him while her insides jumped with excitement.  “Which is?”

“An offer like that,” he said, “one might construe as underestimating the scrappy.  Something you already warned me not to do.”

 _Jackass_ , she thought, a grin breaking out on her face.  “ _Never_ underestimate the scrappy.”

They stood, taking measure and issuing challenge.  Veronica broke first, scooping up a handful of snow and lobbing it at Logan.

The powder scattered before reaching him.  Logan, more experienced with snow, packed a handful and pitched it at her chest.  Snow exploded against her jacket, leaving Veronica with a smattering of flakes across her face.

It was cold, and exhilarating.  She took her lesson and packed a ball tight before throwing it, and missed large, too keyed up to take proper aim.    

Another ball hit her shoulder and mushroomed into  little crystals.  Veronica realized Logan had the advantage on her with distance so, in a strategic move, charged toward him.  

Snow fell in her shoes, the collar of her jacket, and froze her fingers.  She didn’t care.  This close, there was no time to pack snowballs so they resorted to throwing wet handfuls at each other until they were both laughing breathlessly, and sopping.

Veronica grabbed a last handful and jumped at Logan, smashing it into his face as they both fell backward into a drift. He bit at her hand and, when he missed, flipped them over so he could pin her down.

This close, in the ghostly glow from the street light reflecting in his face above her, Logan looked _stunning_. His eyes shone black, the dark streak of his mouth stretched into an alluring grin.  The red in his cheeks and nose made the rest his face appear pale.  His hair was tousled and wet.

They were both breathing hard and laughing, an understood truce drawn.  The moment drew out, became something else.  Veronica’s breathing slowed but her heart sped up.  Logan scanned her face—her lips, her eyes, back to her lips again.  Just as she was sure he’d kiss her, Logan rolled onto his back and exhaled a steamy plume up to the sky.

“We better go. Storms not letting up.”  He popped up and stood, holding a hand out to her. Which he released as soon as she was on her feet.  “My cabin has a guest room, if you want it.”

“I would, thanks.”

He put her snug inside the truck and started the heater before clearing off the windows.  The whole thing was surreal.  Here she was, fresh off a breakup, going to a strange man’s house.  Not only that, she was ready to be crazy and sleep with him, only to have him relegate her to the guest room.

“Ten minutes,” he promised as he climbed back into the truck  He engaged the switch for four-wheel drive and placed a hand behind her seat while he backed up.  “You can put on dry clothes and burrow into a thousand blankets.  Warm up.”

 _I can think of better ways to warm up._  The trite come-on formed in Veronica’s head but wouldn’t leave her mouth.  Fortunately.

The roads were treacherous, what they could see of them.  Despite Logan’s promise the drive took twenty-five minutes instead of ten.  They spent the time in quiet, Logan concentrating while Veronica ran through every possibility that would end in their faces smashing together.

With her cases, she was dauntless.  Impetuous even, to hear her dad tell it.  Why, then, was it so hard with guys?  She was on the pill a full year before Duncan made his move, and they never got beyond lights-off missionary.  With Piz the sex was a step up from her previous experience, but always left her restless.  Sadly, the most stirred up she’d been was a stolen kiss with Leo, one of her dad’s deputies, right before he transferred to a job out of town.

Glancing at Logan, though, his long legs splayed open at the knees, his calm assurance and intense focus while navigating the lost road in the dark, long fingers wrapped around the wheel, Veronica was definitely stirred.

All she needed was the guts to act on it.

She barely had a glimpse of the cabin before Logan pulled into the garage—though cabin was an understatement for the three-story monstrosity.

Even the garage was extravagant.  Three-cars wide, two deep, and stocked with toys. High-end snowmobiles lay glistening, the result of recent attention, she was sure.  The fifty-thousand dollar pickup truck was in brand-new condition, though it was three years old. Some kind of large boat on a trailer.  Snow skis and boots lined the walls, along with waterskis and life vests enough to rescue a large party.

 _Who_ is _this guy?_  she wondered.

The garage light was faint, leaving the car dim. The ticking sound of the cooling engine was the only sound around them.  They gathered up the garbage from their road trip snacks while Veronica tried searched for a natural opening, which never came.  The cold in the garage seeped into the car, cooling her wet feet.

Logan clicked the button to close the garage door.  He reached for his door handle and she put her hand on his arm.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I—,” she swallowed, “Thanks.  For everything.  The ride, for lunch, and letting me stay here.”

Logan nodded.  “No problem.  I’m just sorry you made the trip for nothing.”

There it was again, an opening for her to turn vamp.  Throw out some coy remark, or even cross the seats into his lap.  Her intentions could be made very clear from that position.

“Yeah.” Veronica drew her hand away, hating herself for chickening out.

While Logan got out and dumped the garbage in a large, wheeled container in the corner, she wiped her hands off on her jeans and climbed out. By the time they met at the back of the Rover, she pulled off a genuine smile.

“So,” she said, grabbing her small suitcase while he hefted his two larger bags and led her to the house door.  “I’m not sure what’s on your Christmas list, but my advice?  Ask Santa for a dictionary.”

Logan reached over her shoulder and punched in a series of numbers into a keypad.  A motion-sensitive light came on, showing they’d entered a room with wall-to-wall benches, coat hooks, and niches half filled with snow boots and flip flops.  

“A dictionary?” he asked, sitting down to unlace his boots

“Sure. So you can look up words that seem to have you confused.” Veronica copied Logan and kicked off her wet Chucks, placed her sopping socks on top of them, and hung her jacket from a hook.  

“Like what?”

The heated floor felt incredible under her iced feet.  With care to lift her bag instead of roll it across the luxury wood, she followed Logan to another door.  “Um, cabin?

“Is this not a cabin?”  He waved her inside.  In front of them a stairway curved halfway up. To the left was a hallway longer than her entire house, with six doors on each side and double sliders at the end, leading to what she presumed was a massive linen closet.  

“No. A cabin, by definition, is made of wood, remote, and, this is key, _small_.”

“Well,” Logan grinned.  “It’s wood and, I don’t know if you noticed the drive, but it is remote.  And size is a relative concept.”  He waved down the long hall. “Take your pick. They all have bathrooms.”

She shook her head.  Years with the Kanes had left her, while not impervious to money and the luxuries it afforded, not awed either.  “Thanks. Which one are you using?”  Heat flooded her cheeks.  “I mean, I don’t want to take your favorite.”

“Family bedrooms are on third floor.”  He turned to the stairs.  “Kitchen’s one flight up.  It’s stocked, if you get hungry.”

“Thanks.”

“And, Veronica?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry about getting home tomorrow.  Even if the roads aren’t clear, we can use a snowmobile to get you to the Amtrak station.”

“Oh.  Thanks.”

 

Veronica picked the first room on the left, not caring enough about decor to be choosy.  She tore off her wet jeans and shirt and pulled on a long-sleeve, black, v-neck tee and the South Park pajama pants her dad gave her last Christmas, dry clothes doing nothing to improve her mood.

It was not yet seven.  The night stretched ahead of them, they were snowbound in luxury, and Logan had set her up two floors away from him.  Not even a friendly offer of a movie together to pass the evening, and with a clear plan to dump her in the morning.  Was he that anxious to get rid of her?  Had she misread manners for interest?  The thought had her grateful she _hadn’t_ executed a clumsy pass earlier.

The room had a television but the weather had knocked out any reception. Thinking she’d be at the hotel frat party all night, and asleep on a bus home tomorrow, Veronica had packed nothing to read.  

A search of the other bedrooms turned up neither books or DVDs to wile away the hours ahead.  Nor were there any personal items in the many closets or built-in drawers..  Each was decorated as generically as hotel rooms, with a knotty-pine queen bed and matching end tables. The only way to differentiate each room was the color of the bedspread.

Though she wasn’t hungry, within an hour boredom had Veronica fixating on Logan’s offer of a stocked kitchen.  She padded softly down the hall and up the stairs, the Berber carpet absorbing the footfall of her stocking feet with ease.

As Veronica reached the top of the stairs, thoughts of earlier events fell away.  The living room was bigger than her entire house.  Gorgeous maple floors and wainscoting were lakehouse boilerplate, though the lush furnishings and high-end art made it clear this was a showplace.  Especially done up for Christmas.  ‘Carol of the Bells’ played quietly from recessed speakers in the ceiling.  

A twelve-foot Douglas fir, centered to be seen from the picture windows on the north wall, stood covered in white lights and silver balls.  Pine garland, also intertwined with white lights, encircled the room.  The framed pictures looked like presents, wrapped in silvery paper and red ribbon.  Red poinsettias rested on every stair leading to the third floor.

A tiny Christmas village, lights burning in every window, festooned the enormous fireplace mantle.  A fire burned behind a glass shield, its flames the only other light in the place. The room swept her up with earthy scents of pine needles and burnt wood.  “Wow,” she breathed.

Logan sat sunk deep into the middle of the couch, staring at a glass of pale liquid resting on his knee.  “Did you get settled in okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said.  “Do you mind if I, I mean, can I grab a glass for water?”

“Help yourself.”

Veronica leaned a shoulder against the kitchen doorway and studied Logan.  He was the picture of melancholy.  It was the first time in hours she recalled he was fresh off a breakup himself.  “What was her name?”

“Whose?”

Veronica moved to sit on the arm of the couch, her feet on the cushion next to Logan’s.  “Your girlfriend. The one you were supposed to come up here with.”

“Lindsey.”

“She’s got you down, huh?”

Logan breathed a laugh.  The ice in his drink tinkled as he swirled it around but didn’t sip.  “Do I seem down?”

“Most of Hearst is partying in Mexico or just up the road, and you planned a solo trip to a remote cabin.  You’re sitting in front of a fire, drinking and licking your wounds.”

“Now who’s calling it a cabin?” he snarked.

Veronica nudged his thigh with her foot and stood.  “I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.”  Logan ran a hand through his hair.  “Stay.  Please,” he added when she hesitated.

Veronica settled herself into a corner of the couch.  They watched the fire for a time, comfortable in the silence.

It was Logan who broke first, asking, “Did you love him?”

“Who, Piz?”  At his nod Veronica shook her head.  “No, I cared about him, but I didn’t love him.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Sure,” she smiled, remembering the early days with Duncan.  “As much as anybody falls in love when they’re fifteen.”

“Tell that to Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh, please.” Veronica rolled her eyes.  “That was drama and histrionics, it wasn’t love.”

“And lust, don’t leave that out.”

“Nobody kills themselves over lust.”

Logan side-eyed her.  “You’re a P.I.. If anyone knows what people will do for lust, it should be you.”

 _Everyone except me_ , she thought, letting the remark pass.  “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

“Sure,” he smirked. “Truly, madly, deeply.”

“Lyndsey?”

“No.”

Veronica pulled a knee up to her chest and wrapped her arms around it.  “Who?”

“Nobody I want to talk about--it was a long time ago.  Your room okay?”

“It’s nice.”  Veronica looked around the room, accepting his change of subject.  “Has your family owned this place long?”

“A few years.  I’m the only one that uses it, though.”

“You go all out,” she said, waving a hand to indicate the Christmas decor.

He got quiet. When Logan finally spoke, his voice was underlaid with wistfulness.  “My mom loves Christmas.  She set it up as a surprise when she heard I was coming here.”

“You’re staying through the holidays?  Alone?” Veronica heard the surprise in her voice.  Christmas without her dad was unthinkable.  At the least, it seemed Logan had a mother who loved him.  The fact that the deeper she went with Logan, the more questions she had did nothing to lessen her attraction to him.

“Do you like egg nog?” he asked, his small smile an apology for not answering her question.  

“I love it.”  

Logan got up and rummaged around in a small mini-bar in the corner.  He came back with a carton of egg nog, a bottle of Braastad XO cognac, and two glasses.  When he sat back on the couch, he was inches closer.

The song playing above them switched to ‘White Christmas’.  Logan poured two cups of egg nog and she nodded when he held up the brandy, his brow cocked in question.

Veronica noticed he gave himself two shots to her one, and she reached past him to pick up his cup for herself.  Logan chuckled and poured another shot in the remaining glass and settled back on the couch, angled toward her.

“Know any good toasts?” Veronica asked, shifting to face him.  Her move had her knee brushing up against Logan’s leg, and she delighted when he didn’t move away.

“Sure, but they’re all dirty.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes.  Regardless if she and Logan were fated to just be friends, she was done with being treated like a reverent princess by the guys in her life.  She held out her glass and, in her best Irish lilt, recited:

_Here's to those we love the best,_

_we love them best when they're undressed._

_We love them sitting, standing, lying;_

_if they had wings we'd love them flying._

_And when they're dead, buried, forgotten-_

_we'll dig them up and fuck them rotting_

 

Logan’s shoulders shook and a deep slow chuckle worked its way out of his chest. His eyes flitted from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes again.  Veronica, knowing she’d regret it more if she _didn’t_ try, made the first move and leaned forward to press her lips against his.

 _Yes!_ she screamed inside when the risk brought reward.  Logan’s mouth softened, opened under hers. Veronica’s free hand came up to the back of his head and held him there as she took the first, tenuous taste.

Never had she lost sense of herself in a kiss, not like this. His glass somehow ended up on the coffee table in front of them, Veronica’s to the high table behind the couch.  Logan’s hands went under her arms and, after a moment of weightlessness, she was straddling his lap.

And during it all she knew nothing but a rising greed.  As much as he gave, she wanted more. More of Logan’s touch, his tongue, his lips, his breath in her lungs.  An unforetold fire raged through her veins and she welcomed it, finally understanding a primal truth that had eluded her for years.

Forget stirred, she was _libidinous_.

Logan’s hand, when it reached the bare skin of her breast, was cold from the glass he’d held. She gasped and tore her mouth away from his, only to find her breath coming in pants when his tongue worked some previously unknown place of magic on her neck.

“Logan,” she breathed, a mindless plea.

Everything stopped.  Logan’s hands went to her hips and pulled her close, his forehead against her clavicle.  The heave of his breath sent a repeat rush of warm air down the v-neck of her shirt.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that.”

Her head spun, still caught up in the kiss.  “Why?”

“Because I like you.”

Veronica leaned back, putting them eye-to-eye.  She swallowed, releasing a sound halfway between a groan and laugh.  “Just for the record, you were doing a great job of showing it.”

Logan huffed a laugh and put his head back against the couch. “No, I mean I _really_ like you.  I’ve had a good time today.”

“Day’s not over.” She leaned forward and bit the soft wedge of skin just below his jaw.  Her hands reached for the top button of his jeans.

He caught her wrists in his hands just as Veronica got the button loose and shook his head.  “I don’t think this is the best idea.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re fresh off a break up.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not out for revenge.”

Stung, Veronica slid off Logan’s lap and strode to the other side of the coffee table, opposite him, as soon as her feet were on the floor.  “For someone who likes me, you’ve got a really low opinion of me.”

“That’s not it.”  Logan walked around to her side of the table and reached for her hand.  He pulled back and shook his head when she moved out of reach.  “Veronica, I’ve been where you are, okay?  It’s normal to be pissed at him.”

“I’m not, but thanks for your permission.  Either way sex for spite isn’t my style.”

“You’re not pissed.”  Logan winged an eyebrow at her.  “Then why did I get a two-hour post-mortem on your relationship?”

Embarrassment added an edge to Veronica’s anger, along with the realization he stood between her and the stairs. “I didn’t realize I was boring you.  It won’t happen again.  Move.”

Logan stepped aside. As she passed by he caught her hand in his.  “I wasn’t bored, I was confused.”

“By what?”

“How you could stay so long with a guy who didn’t do it for you.”

His touch, his proximity, the earnest question in his eyes eased her fury a smidge.  “How do you know he didn’t?”

Logan’s eyes fell down to her mouth, a reminder of what they’d shared only moments ago.  He dropped her hand and stepped back. “Look, I’ve been where you are.  No matter how bad things are, getting dumped sucks.  Sex is a great way to get over it--reassurance you’re desirable and a big ‘fuck you’ to the one that walked away.”

“I didn’t—Logan, I don’t use people like that.”

“You wouldn’t mean to.  But are ready to jump into another relationship?”

The question surprised her, in that she’d given no thought to tomorrow.  While she’d had a great day with Logan, she didn’t have the first idea who he was.  Moreover, the half-truths and omissions she’d let slide by today spoke of a man with a complicated past and present. He raised her curiosity as much as her libido and she wanted answers.  But at the expense of her newly acquired freedom?  

“Yeah,” he smirked but she could see the disappointment in his eyes.  “Here’s the thing.  I meant it when I said I liked you. I don’t want to be the guy you fuck to get over a breakup.”

Veronica felt her mouth tip up in a wry smile. “You know most guys wouldn’t say no to an offer like that.”

“Go back a couple of years and I wouldn’t’ve.” Logan chuckled.  “ Just our luck I decided to reform myself, huh?”

More questions.  Veronica pushed them away and tilted her head.  “I like you, too.  I’m not sure I want to let that go.”

“I hope you don’t.  But my advice?” Logan took another step back and leaned against the wall behind him.  “Go to New York, have a fling.  Have ten.  You deserve a chance to cut loose.  Just save my number, will you?  I’d like to take you out someday, when we have a shot at something real.”

Veronica studied him, seeing nothing but sincerity on his face.  Logan wasn’t judging her, or building a glass box to place her in.   “How about a compromise?” she asked, closing the distance between them.

“Which is?”

“When are you back in Neptune?”

“The second.”

Veronica nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Tonight we hang out, talk, maybe watch a movie.  If that goes well, what would you say to a date, on the fifth?  No promises, no commitments, no sex, since you insist,” she teased, getting a smile from Logan. “Just two kids sharing a malted and a kiss at the end of the night.”

His hands worked their way around her waist. “A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s this newfangled concept I heard about.  All the kids are doing it. Interested?”

Logan’s grin was all she saw before he swept her up, his mouth curved in a smile as he pressed it to hers.  In the next moments they were spinning, spinning, and she had the strangest sensation gravity had lost its hold, as well as any plans to stay single after the new year.

Veronica thought of Monday,  the plane ticket waiting for her, and a willing Lilly to play emissary into the world of meaningless sex.  If she wanted it.  

With Dean Martin’s ‘Marshmallow World’ playing over their heads, she decided that was a question for tomorrow.

 


End file.
